ed cabbage. The husband
has several names, each with a meaning. Sometimes they call him the
"scarecrow," because his head is covered with straw or hemp, and because
his legs and a portion of his body are surrounded with straw to hide
his nakedness, ill concealed by his rags. He has also a great belly,
or hump, constructed of straw or hay underneath his blouse. Then he is
known as the "ragamuffin," on account of his covering of rags. Lastly he
is termed the "infidel," and this is most significant of all, because by
his cynicism and his debauchery he is supposed to typify the opposite of
every Christian virtue.

He comes with his face all smeared with soot and the lees of wine, and
sometimes made yet more hideous by a grotesque mask. An earthenware cup,
notched and broken, or an old sabot attached to his girdle by a cord,
shows that he has come to beg for alms of wine. Nobody refuses him, and
he pretends to drink; then he pours the wine on the ground by way of
libation. At every step he falls, rolls in the mud, and feigns to be
a prey to the most shameful drunkenness. His poor wife runs after him,
picks him up, calls for help, arranges his hempen locks, which straggle
forth in unkempt wisps from beneath his filthy hat, sheds tears over her
husband's degradation, and pours forth pathetic reproaches.

"Wretched man," she cries, "see the misery to which your wickedness
has brought us. I have to spend all my time sewing and working for you,
mending your clothes. You tear and bedraggle yourself incessantly. You
have eaten up all my little property; our six children lie on straw, and
we are living in a stable with the beasts. Here we are forced to beg for
alms, and, besides, you are so ugly and vile and despicable that very
soon they will be tossing us bread as if we were dogs. Ah, my poor
people, take pity on us! Take pity on me! I have n't deserved my lot,
and never had woman a more dirty and detestable husband. Help me to
pick him up, else the wagons will run over him as they run over broken
bottles, and I shall be a widow, and that will end by killing me with
grief, though all the world says it would be an excellent riddance
for me." Such is the part of the gardener's wife, and her continued
lamentations last during the entire play. For it is a genuine
spontaneous comedy acted on the spur of the moment in the open air,
along the roads and across the fields, aided by every chance occurrence
that presents itself. Everybody s